


Untitled

by lily_winterwood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 17:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lily_winterwood/pseuds/lily_winterwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Short, rather random Harry/Ginny fic written after a period of frustration over how few instances the two had in Canon that showed that they were truly soulmates. Or perhaps that's just me being spoiled by Johnlock.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> Short, rather random Harry/Ginny fic written after a period of frustration over how few instances the two had in Canon that showed that they were truly soulmates. Or perhaps that's just me being spoiled by Johnlock.

No one puts Ginny Weasley in a corner. Least of all her boyfriend Harry.

It’s been a year or two after everything’s ended but still he’s out there, still he leaves her arms and goes to war. Every morning, he goes to war. He hunts down the last Death Eaters, and he turns them in.

Sometimes she wishes he wasn’t an Auror, but then again restraining Harry from saving people would be like burning Hermione Granger’s library. It’d be withholding part of himself, and Ginny’s the last person to want to do that.

So she lets him go, but she draws the line at staying away from him.

* * *

The Death Eater of the day is a man named Jugson. Ginny’s pretty sure she’s heard of him, possibly from her school days. The man is tall, quiet, unassuming, bald. She’d have passed him on the streets and not noticed.

Harry reads the file over the breakfast table with a sigh, twirling his wand idly in his hands.

“When are you needed?” Ginny asks him. “To catch this guy?”

“Lunchtime. We’re setting up a trap. Lunch date with one of our plainclothes witches, small town in Cornwall. Obliviators on hand as well; won’t be back for lunch.”

“Neither will I. Harpies tryouts,” Ginny replies, smiling. “You stay safe, okay?”

“I will. If I’m not back before dinner, contact Hermione. She’ll know what to do.”

Ginny frowns. “I can’t go save you?”

“I don’t want you hurt.”

Ginny rolls her eyes and nods for him. “Fine.”

* * *

The stakeout starts as normal as ever in the quiet Muggle café. The Obliviators are sitting off to the side, ready for action as soon as Harry and the target do their parts. Harry sits at the booth behind them; he keeps his eyes trained on the bald head of his target as he sips his coffee.

(It’s the most horrendous coffee he’s ever tasted, but that’s beyond the point.)

The decoy’s a young witch with curly blonde hair and a great smile; she bats her lashes at him but keeps her wand up her sleeve. Twirling it may be a giveaway, since they are in Muggle territory, after all.

The target however, keeps it all in stride. Unassuming as ever in his pinstripe suit, he smiles charmingly and orders them tea. Harry observes the target’s fidgeting, observes the sweat glistening off his pate. Adrenaline courses through him as he catches the decoy’s eye and nods.

She whips her wand out in an instant and points it at him. “Mr. Jugson, on behalf of the Ministry of Magic I now hereby arrest you –”

BANG!

Jugson’s Stunning Spell hits her in the chest with all the force of a locomotive; he’s obviously channelled in all of his nervousness and frustration into it. Harry has his own wand out and ready but the Death Eater takes one look at him and turns on the spot to Dissapparate.

Harry launches himself at the Death Eater and latches on, dragging himself along for the ride and it’s extremely unpleasant, struggling with the Death Eater yet daring not to let go. They land on an empty field somewhere; Harry looks around and guesses it to be Sussex.

Jugson’s next curse he barely avoids by a hair. Harry shoots back at him, engaging him in the duel with spells upon spells. It’s dangerous, it’s probably lethal – but it’s what he lives for. It’s what he does to make sure that Britain (and the rest of this bloody world) doesn’t have to deal with Dark Wizards like Jugson and his former master.

Jugson’s next spell comes out of nowhere and hits Harry in the stomach; he reels back, gasping, blinking stars from his eyes as the curse roots him to the spot. Jugson advances, hatred evident in his eyes as he raises his wand for another spell and Harry thinks wildly of Ginny, hoping that she’ll know what to do if he can’t make his way home for dinner –

 “ _Petrificus totalus_!” a third voice calls out, accompanied by a flash of red, and Ginny Weasley’s angry face appears behind the shoulder of the Death Eater as he collapses.

“Ginny?” Harry groans as she reverses the spell on him and he points his wand at Jugson. “ _Incarcerous_ ,” he mutters. Silvery ropes bind the Death Eater. “We’ll arrest him later, I guess.”

Ginny laughs a bit, pocketing her wand. “Well?”

“Well?” echoes Harry.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I got here?”

“Do you want me to?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Possibly. The answer’s Hermione, of course.”

“Of course,” agrees Harry as he takes a seat on the grass not too far away from the tied-up Jugson. Ginny sits down next to him. “But why would you do that?”

“Because I heard you were in trouble,” Ginny replies. “Thought you might need the help.”

* * *

“Is this what it comes down to?” Ginny asks him over dinner – it’s not a bad dinner; Kreacher promised treacle tart – as she daubs at his the side of his head with a sigh. “You getting into stupid situations?”

“You didn’t have to come,” Harry replies, looking up at her with a tight-lipped smile. “You didn’t need to save me. I was doing fine.”

“You were not. That Jugson bloke nearly had you.”

“You could’ve been hurt.”

“It’s not about me. He didn’t expect me to appear, after all, so it’s you who could’ve been hurt. Killed.” Ginny’s brown eyes are fierce. “You think I don’t know that or what?”

“I don’t want you putting your life on the line for me,” Harry snaps.

“That’s not fair,” scoffs Ginny. “You’re the one who puts his neck out every day for the rest of us. I’m just here to watch your sorry back. So don’t you dare die on me.” She jabs at his cut a bit more fiercely with the ointment-soaked cloth; it stings and sparks a bit and Harry hisses. Ginny smirks.

“What was that for?”

“Don’t you dare die on me, Harry James Potter,” Ginny repeats. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

* * *

Harry Potter, what a douchecanoe. Ginny hates him sometimes, but then she remembers that she loves him too and that he’s been through so much for her and her family (not to mention the rest of the sodding Wizarding World).

Oh yes, hold the presses. The Boy Who Lived is a douchecanoe. Ginny half-considers calling the Daily Prophet to tell them that, but then they might take it seriously. Who does one have to kill to get quality journalism around here?

Ginny watches him kip on the sofa of their flat, hair frumpled as ever and work robes touselled as all hell. He’s tired, too tired to clamber into bed. She leans over and tucks the afghan more tightly under his neck and smoothes down a bit of his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I love you,” she whispers, and hopes against hope that he will hear her.


End file.
